


Worship

by writingthursdays



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: After the bar fight scene, M/M, a little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 04:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingthursdays/pseuds/writingthursdays
Summary: Shadow thinks he might try the worship thing after all.





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Mad Sweeney made me do it.

Shadow can taste the iron on his tongue, can feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as he lands another punch on Mad Sweeney’s jaw. The latter stumbles but the way he was grinning, Shadow might have just as well flicked him. He spits out the blood from his mouth, eyes still on Shadow as he makes luring gestures, obviously taunting. Shadow shakes his head, a futile attempt at clearing the haze that had settled deep into his mind.

He takes another lunge, puts his back on it until Mad Sweeney dodges it and uses his own momentum to push him down. There was a huge difference in their height, Shadow thinks, this was a mistake. He never really did learn how to pick his own battles. He lay on the ground for a while, catching his breath and trying to dispel the alcohol from his system. He can feel Mad Sweeney’s eyes watch him from above.

“What? That all ye got?” He heard Mad Sweeney say. Shadow feels sore all over – like he’d just gotten through a meat grinder with all his limbs intact. He groaned in reply, pushing up on his elbows and knees in an attempt to stand up.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. If Laura were here, she’d probably stop him from getting up. But she wasn’t. She was dead.

Shadow stood up and caught Mad Sweeney by his waist, pushing the both of them carelessly towards a table. He’s dimly aware of glasses breaking and a series of punch that now abused his back. It might’ve been an elbow – judging by the hard edges digging on his shoulders. Mad Sweeney laughs, Shadow can feel the vibrations on his chest as he toppled them down to the floor. He thinks she can hear Laura tell him to stop but chalks it down to his imagination and the alcohol.

After a while of beating each other up – with no apparent winner, Mad Sweeney would disagree loudly although he himself hadn’t made any attempts to get up from the dirty floor, Shadow feels better. Infinitely better than he had since he got out of prison. All that pent-up rage and confusion had dissipated and left him somewhat empty. It was exhilarating.

“What’s your deal?” Shadow asked.

Mad Sweeney pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and offered one to Shadow, a lighter on his other hand. “I was bored.” He said, with a cigarette stuck in his mouth.

Shadow refused, he never liked smoking in the first place. Laura had that habit when she was alive, once even laughed at Shadow when she learned he didn’t smoke.

“The way you’re going, you’ll be dead sooner than ye think,”

Shadow snorted, “You’ll get there before me,”

“Aye,” Mad Sweeney replied, taking a drag. Shadow looked at him from the corner of his eyes, he doesn’t look any worse than he is.

“Are you sick?” He asked, not sure if he was supposed to even ask that. Spending time in prison definitely did wonders for his social skills.

Mad Sweeney glared at him, “I’m not the one heading towards my death. You are, better be careful, boy.”

Shadow thinks they’re having two different conversations. He kept his mouth shut until the bartender, the sweet old lady who offered him free newspaper earlier, pushed them with a broom. Mad Sweeney’s loud protests went unheard as Shadow attempted to get up. He feels glass shards digging on his arms, he didn’t even feel it until now when all the adrenaline had gone. Mad Sweeney looked him over and grabbed an arm, hauling it over his broad shoulders – Shadow winced. Their height difference more pronounced although he was somewhat grateful.

“What room?” He asked.

Shadow gave him his room number and Mad Sweeney helped him limp towards it, Shadow thought it was his fault after all – he didn’t even know why he’s helping him in the first place. When they got to his room, he was unceremoniously dropped onto his bed while Mad Sweeney went to the bathroom, he didn’t even asked Shadow if he can use it and just went and sauntered like he owned the place.

Shadow looked up at his ceiling, it had probably once been white but now it just looks awfully dirty. There are cracks along the edges and a small stain that Shadow didn’t even want to know where it came from. He hears the faucet turn on and the sound of running water. He briefly turns to look at his bathroom and wonders what to do.

“I didn’t exactly invite you inside,” Shadow said, grunting in pain as he moved to sit up on his bed. If Mad Sweeney was going to rob him then he’s pushing his luck, there aren’t anything left in Shadow’s possession that’s worth more than a dime. He only had the clothes on his back and well, whatever Wednesday was offering. A job he didn’t even know what he was supposed to do.

“It’s the least you can do after I helped you,” Mad Sweeney’s voice echoed from the bathroom, the faucet momentarily being turned off.

“Help? You were the one who beat me,” Shadow shouted, although it didn’t come off as insulting as he liked. It may have had something to do with his aching ribs. The sound of the faucet running comes back. He briefly lifts his shirt and inspects ribs, wonders how long the bruises would take to form. He’s fairly sure he doesn’t have any cracked ribs since he can still breathe without trouble.

He’d been idle for three years. Three years of not getting into trouble and trying to stay on their good side only to come home to a dead, cheating wife. He couldn’t even process the cheating part yet – what was Laura thinking? Shadow covered his eyes with a hand. He hadn’t cried yet. He doesn’t even know if he can. He hears oncoming footsteps and looks up to see Mad Sweeney come out.

He looked better than Shadow, all the blood had come off of his face except for the splattered blood on the front of his shirt. Who even wears suspenders nowadays? He’s got a wet towel in hand and throws it over to Shadow. Shadow catches it midair and frowns at him.

“It’s for your face,” Mad Sweeney grumbled, looking like he’s ready to fight again.

“We’re not friends,” He said, wondering if Mad Sweeney got the wrong impression.

Mad Sweeney shrugged, “You keep following him, you’re going to end up in your funeral. And then there’ll be two of you to bury.”

Shadow studied his face for a moment and when he didn’t find anything that looks mildly like a joke, he wiped away the blood from his face. “Wednesday?” He asked. “So, you keep saying.”

Mad Sweeney sat on the couch near the door. He looked ridiculous sitting in the small thing, all long-limbs trying to fit in the tiny space. Shadow would’ve laughed if his everything didn’t hurt.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know you and besides, in case you’re forgetting, you were the one who beat me half to death.”

Mad Sweeney glared at him, “Are you still not over it?”

“Over it? It hasn’t even been an hour yet.” Shadow hissed. He clutched at his ribs, god, he can’t even bare to move too much – the pain shooting out from everywhere.

“Good. You believe at least,”

Shadow gritted through his teeth as he pulled out the smaller shards from his other arm. “Believe in what?”

“A god. If you believe in me, I can give you blessing, luck,”

For the first time since he met him, Shadow actually thinks Mad Sweeney was serious. “You’re a,” Shadow looked up from where he was concentrating on his arm, the last piece of glass thrown hastily on the floor, “God?”

“I told you. I’m a leprechaun.” Mad Sweeney scowled even further. Shadow feels like he’s talking to a lunatic. In the dim light, he could make out Mad Sweeney’s ridiculous hair. Staring at Mad Sweeney made him feel like staring directly into the sun, Shadow averted his eyes away and continues wiping the blood away. Or, whatever he could wipe – he probably needs a shower at this point.

“Assuming I do believe you, what do I get in return?” He asked, briefly wondering if it was a good idea to play along with a lunatic. He thinks he read about it somewhere in a book, back in prison, where playing along is usually the right way. Mad Sweeney’s eyes glinted under the light, brown eyes watching Shadow intently now.

“Whatever you want, I don’t care. All I need is,” Mad Sweeney paused, making Shadow look up. He avoided Shadow’s eyes, looking intently at something over his shoulder. “worship.” He licks his lips.

Shadow thought he heard wrong, “I’m sorry, what?”

And then five minutes later – Sweeney’s shoving his tongue down Shadow’s throat while Shadow furiously fumbles against offending shirts in the way. He pulls back, gasping for air as Sweeney took this chance to latch on his neck, biting and sucking on unmarred skin that makes him arch against the bed. He hears Sweeney’s laugh, feels it rumble against his chest as he finishes taking off all of their clothes.

“This is a bad idea,” Shadow muttered even as a moan escaped his lips when Sweeney takes his cock in hand – all rough and not slick enough. Still, it was good, better than nothing. He revels in the warm body against his, hands wandering across broad shoulders. Sweeney pulls back to look at him, breath uneven and Shadow takes the moment to smirk at that, his brown eyes glinting dangerously under the light as he took in the image of Shadow sprawled under him.

“Not the worst I’ve made,” Sweeney said, pupils blown and more black than brown now. His eyes sweeping over Shadow’s body under the dim light, in a trashy hotel in the middle of nowhere. “Do you want to stop?” He asked, even as his breath hitched when Shadow arched against his hand.

“Fuck no,” Shadow glared. He pulls him down, pushes their mouth together in a bruising kiss. He’s pleasantly surprised when Sweeney slowed him down, almost teasing as he pulled away not an inch further. He feels Sweeney’s hand roam against his thighs, exploring and he tries not to groan in protest. Sweeney clucks his tongue at him even as Shadow let his head fall back on the mattress. Shadow watched Sweeney take in his sight, he’s aware what he looked like thank you very much, legs spread and cock twitching.

Mad Sweeney licks his lips, eyes half-lidded and Shadow would almost laugh if he wasn’t so goddamned hard. He’d never admit it out loud but Sweeney is handsome, better than most of his hookups before Laura – if it wasn’t for the ridiculous hair, but he guesses it does have some kind of point if you’re into that sort of thing. His beard is scratchy against Shadow’s thighs – Shadow hisses as Sweeney sucks a mark on the inside of his left thigh.

“You keep that up, I’d be covered in bruises,” Shadow said, which was probably the wrong thing to say if he was aiming to get Sweeney to hurry the fuck up. Sweeney grins, teeth bared as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe on his abused thigh. Shadow groans. He’s loath to admit it was hot. He finds out that Mad Sweeney doesn’t fuck like he fights – he takes his time taking Shadow apart piece by piece. Shadow enjoyed getting fucked within an inch of his life and comes to regret it in the morning where he’s sore in places he didn’t even know could be sore.

He wakes up to Mad Sweeney taking a drag at the foot of the bed, watching him languidly, like a cat watching prey. Shadow found that he quite liked that too. He opens his arm in a silent invitation and waits for Sweeney to come back. And then he’s got a towering leprechaun in his arms, chasing his tongue with nicotine in his lips. Shadow thinks he might try the worship thing after all.


End file.
